


Elysian Fields

by MeinNameIstJette



Category: Final Fantasy XV, Kingsglaive
Genre: Ardyn is too perceptive, Fanart, Flower Pressing, Gardens, Gen, Inner working of Titus' mind and guilt, Mention of Luche Lazarus, Mentions of Nyx Ulric, Mentions of Pelna Khara, Monster - Freeform, Self-Reflection, Silent camaraderie, glaives - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25284550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeinNameIstJette/pseuds/MeinNameIstJette
Summary: The garden of one's mind is sometimes more than a physical manifestation of well-kept flowers and plants. Titus realises how attached he is to his small garden in Gralea. It seems he's not the only one...My entry for the Titus Drautos Zine: A Captain's Tale in collaboration withAlotlikeawesome.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16
Collections: A Captain's Tale





	Elysian Fields

**Author's Note:**

> This was my entry for the Titus Drautos Zine: A Captain's Tale. I also had the SUPER honour of working in collaboration with **Alotlikeawesome** on this project. Her rendition of Titus and Ardyn is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen!!!! ;-; 
> 
> You can also find the original posted here: 
> 
> https://twitter.com/alotlikeawesome/status/1283852178390573056?s=21
> 
> It was a wonderful project to work on, if not a hard labour of love. I would recommend that you read and check out all fics and artworks that each participant worked so incredibly hard on! 
> 
> Thanks to my two amazing co-mods **Octomerls** and **TheDarkLordMegatron**. This project could have never been done without you two!!

Monster. _Monster_. **Monster**.

Sunshine in Gralea was an anomaly. Titus doesn't remember it always being like this. There was a point in time, when Glauca ceased to purposely fight their union, that Titus noticed the fading of sunlight. This did not coincide with the rest of Eos, it was specific to Gralea. Titus couldn't help but wonder if it had to do with the shift in nature in the capitol, in Niflheim as a whole. 

So it was a complete wonder that nestled in between an abandoned temple to Shiva, a courtyard that once belonged to a school, and a third, far more derelict building, a quaint but beautiful garden lay. A small haven contrasting the desolate and artificial soul of what was once a beautiful city.

It was an unorthodox place for a garden.In fact, it was a miracle that anything other than daemons could manifest and survive in such a harsh environment-dark and barren, and marked with emotional scars that could not be forgotten. Suitable for Titus but, if he had had a choice, not a location he would have entertained caring for a garden. In fact, he had never once thought of himself as the gardening type, this shift having come as an almost healing surprise in the last five years. As healing as something can get given the path he had chosen that is, especially with a daemon sharing the very foundations that made him who he is. 

\------

_“Sir, permission to speak?”_

_“Not granted.”_

_“How many more battles are we going to fight and Glaives are we going to lose? And... for what? The corpses of our home? It’s been eight years and I swear the Empire, even with her losses, is still winning.”_

_“Ulric, do you understand what ‘not granted’ means?”_

_“No sir, but as I was saying...”_

_“Ulric. Understand that where flowers bloom, so does hope. War is far more complicated than a mere win or loss, and a corpse is better than nothing. Now get out of here before I put you on wall duty again.”_

_“Flowers, sir? ...Alright! Alright! Heading out!”_  
\--------

Each flower nestled within the rich earth of this haven held a deep and powerful meaning. With that meaning came also a regret, one that the owner of the garden knew he would never be able to change, especially with the decisions that had led him to this point. 

He could see his future, had always been able to after the invasion and destruction of Cavaugh, and Titus knew the dangers of the game he had chosen to play. This is why he found himself returning each visit to Gralea, to check on the blooming garden, and to make sure it was still intact. 

To **protect** his secret. To **nurture** lives that he knows he cannot otherwise. 

The sound of his footsteps on stone disturbs the silence surrounding Titus as he traverses the cobblestone pathway towards mostly undisturbed soil. 

The soft creak of the small red wooden gate signals Titus’ arrival, and he’s just as careful closing it before he heads further into the surprisingly well-kept garden. The aroma of the different flowers, trees, and bushes soothe most of Titus' frayed nerves as he locates the flowerbed of Larkspur he had started growing a couple of years back. 

Titus sets his bag down before he crouches to rummage through it. He pulls out three items. 

A worn leather-bound notebook. A set of scissors. A small cloth which he sets down first so he can carefully place his notebook on it. 

He gazes over the mix of purple and pink Larkspur and reaches for a pink one, carefully cutting the stem of the flower. He sets the scissors down as he slowly twirls the stem between his index finger and thumb, considering it carefully. 

Fickleness. 

A pair of blue eyes and blond hair come to mind.

\------

_“Sir…?”_

_“Yes, Lazarus.”_

_“Why fight a war for a kingdom that cares nothing for us?”_

_“We fight a war for our homes, for our people, Lazarus. This has nothing to do with Insomnia or her bigoted arrogance. This war must be fought for those of us who have lost everything.”_

_“I...see, sir. Thank you.”_

\--------

Titus shifts so he’s kneeling in the dirt, uncaring of the fact that his pants would sully. One hand carefully caring for the flower, he reaches to flip the pages of his notebook to a mostly empty one revealing a delicately written sentence. 

_Discontent breeds fickle hearts._

With the page open, Titus sets the delicate blossom down, arranges it, looks at it one last time before he very carefully closes the book. He slowly adds pressure and when it’s firmly shut, picks up the rock he’d been using to hold his book closed, and sets it atop. 

Titus checks on the other flowers before he gets up and in a small corner of the garden, he readies all the tools he needs to nurture his haven. 

A task he had denied himself after the fall of Cavaugh. In fact, it was a miracle he still knew how to nurture anything. He knows that in spite of everything he’d done, he had failed most of his Glaives.

With these thoughts in mind, the rest of the afternoon passes by quickly and before Titus knows it, his time in Gralea is over. 

\-------

The next time Titus returns to Gralea, he is met with more than one unpleasant surprise. It should have been expected given the way the war had been developing and the slowly increasing sound of the timer ticking by — reminding Titus that soon, very soon, Glauca would be called into action in Insomnia proper.

Titus' soured mood has him striding out of the palace, weaving through the empty streets of Gralea, and towards an area he knew just as intimately as the inner workings of his own mind. 

\-----

_“General~ It’s been far too long, tick, tick goes the clock.”_

_“I’m aware, Chancellor, thank you.”_

\------

His footsteps slow down, stutter, and then come to a complete halt. Titus’ usual cool gaze takes in the sight of something that was supposed to be calming, relaxing, unable to wrap his mind around what he’s seeing. 

No.

The red gate barely hung on its hinges and despite being open, was far from welcoming. It filled Titus with a sense of dread that he could only remember feeling twice before. A lump lodges itself in his throat, forcing him to swallow around it, but it still feels constricted. This desecration of his sanctuary — it only adds to the weight of not only the war, but all the blood on his hands and the deaths he carries on his shoulders.

_No._

It takes both courage and discipline to force Titus’ feet forward, propelling him into the garden….

**No.**

Into a war zone. 

\----

_“What kind of person does this, Captain?”_

_The stench of death permeated the area and Titus can remember seeing the absolute horror in Khara’s usually lively eyes. He remembers watching a part of the man die further as he too swallowed around an invisible lump that seemed to add to the weight of their evolving political climate._

_It would have been one thing if all they were witnessing was the destruction of buildings, the bodies of soldiers slain at their hands, but this was much worse._

_There were no soldiers. There had been no ‘battle’._

_What lay before them was a genocide, and Titus can hear Khara choke on his emotions as he tries to stifle the sound of his own despair._

_“A monster, Khara, that’s who.”_

\-------

Titus was _that_ **monster**. 

The deeper he steps into the garden, the heavier he feels. It is like an additional weight has been added to his shoulders, to his mind. The evidence of humanity’s touch imprinted clearly in the dirt around his flowerbeds. 

W-who?! 

Titus’ once beautiful flowers were crushed. The stems broken, the petals barely intact, a good many scattered across the dirt far enough away that the crime committed was evident. 

The destruction was pathetic. Lazy even, but painful. It was clear that there had been no thought put into it and most of the damage had been made by the sole of a boot. The sad remains of the few trees that Titus had dedicated time to grow were the only evidence of the use of armed brute force.

**Why?!**

Walking through the devastation only adds salt to his wounds and when he arrives near the back fencing, the only flower that still stands unharmed is a still blooming Marigold. 

The pain and grief that suffocates him wraps around him in a similar fashion to Glauca’s weighted embrace. 

There were tragedies that Titus has resigned himself to accept. However, this, this is not one of them. 

It takes everything in Titus’ power to rip his gaze away from the single pathetic Marigold that had somehow escaped such destruction. There’s a roar in his ear that, for once, he knows does not belong to Glauca, and before Titus even realises it the last vestiges of his sanity have been left far behind. 

\-----

It’s barely a week when Titus returns.

Thoughts of allowing the garden to rot, just as his humanity had when he’d agreed to harbour Glauca, were at the forefront of his mind. He’d feel less guilt about his treason if he didn't entertain this symbolic folly any longer and allowed it to pass into oblivion. Yet, Titus found himself walking that same cobblestone path he’d grown accustomed to. The same path that used to give him comfort knowing that he would not only find peace and quiet but also a place to bury his guilt at its end. 

Titus stops just in front of the open red wooden gate. 

He stares and then steps even closer as his hand reaches out to rest upon it. There is clear confusion written across his features as he pushes and pulls the gate, noting that it was not the same broken one from his last visit. 

It’s at that moment that Titus registers the sound of water hitting dirt. 

His brows knit tightly together as he releases the gate and steps further in. The sight that he comes upon is not one he thought he would ever see in a million years (notwithstanding the fact that his lifespan would hardly exceed 50 if the war continued). 

There, right in front of him, was the Chancellor himself. 

The man looked immaculate for someone who had clearly been working in a garden. _His garden_. 

It is also odd to see Ardyn Izunia holding a watering can so naturally as if taking care of anything other than destruction was something he did on a regular basis. It has Titus’ arms crossing over his chest uncomfortably as he side-eyes the Chancellor. He’s about to say something, but the man beats him to the chase. 

“General, fancy seeing you here.” Ardyn smirks almost wickedly as he glances over at him. 

There’s a retort on the tip of Titus’ tongue that he holds back as he relaxes, slightly aware now that Ardyn Izunia meant no harm. 

“Chancellor,” he greets, voice monotone, but he's sure the magenta-haired man has picked up on the layers of meaning hidden in his tone.

The response seems to widen the other man’s smirk as he shifts to set the watering can down before straightening up to regard Titus. 

“It was such a shame coming across the wreckage of a beautiful mind,” Ardyn hums. 

Titus’ eyes narrow further. “Do you mean garden, Chancellor?” 

“Ah, yes. Garden, not mind. Poetic though.” Ardyn smiles, but it is one that speaks volumes. Spells out the truth, Ardyn meant what he said. He always did. The man was far too perceptive for his own good. It is, as always, disconcerting. 

Titus uncrosses his arms so that he can pick up the discarded watering can. “Is there _another_ reason you’re here?” Titus asks as he glances briefly over his shoulder at Ardyn before crouching down to water some of the surviving flowers. 

“Poetic justice,” Ardyn answers rather flippantly. 

“Mmhmm, right.” Titus arches a brow as he sets the can down, standing again so he’s facing the enigmatic man. “I appreciate the attention you’ve given these flowers. However, if you are done, Chancellor, you may take your leave.” 

It was a polite way of telling the man to get the fuck out. 

It was clear there was discomfort at the fact that Ardyn Izunia was both in his sanctuary and evidently aware of its meaning. Titus could also tell that even though his dismissal was anything but nice, it seemed to have elicited a knowing and amused smirk from the other man rather than offense. 

Irritating. 

Titus watches as the smirk widens and there is a brief moment where he worries the man can read his thoughts. 

“Well General, it was a pleasure,” Ardyn drawls as he tips his hat to Titus and inclines his head. Quite the dramatics in Titus’ opinion, but he has known the Chancellor for many years now, so he understands that these dramatics are just as much of a wall as Titus’ characteristic silence. 

Titus tilts his head in return to be polite as he watches the man languidly stride out of the garden and away. He stands there for a little longer, gazing over the flowers and plants that the chancellor had fixed. 

The man really was an enigma. 

He leaves the watering can to venture over to the one marigold that had survived the massacre. Titus pulls out three items as he crouches down beside the single bloomed flower.

He pulls out a worn leather-bound notebook, a set of scissors, and a cloth. The notebook lays open on the cloth as Titus carefully cuts the stem of the Marigold. Holding it delicately between his index finger and thumb, he twirls it, taking a good look at its simple beauty. 

The chancellors’ eyes were not as bright as the Marigold’s warm yellow petals, but they hold the same amount of grief and pain that the flower symbolises. One other attribute that he and Ardyn share.

Titus sets the flower down on an empty page and pulls out a pen to carefully write out one sentence. 

_Humanity weaves through us all, even those of us who insist it has been forgotten._

With one last look at the flower, Titus closes the book, pressing it down and finally adding the weighted rock. 

There was no rhythm or rhyme to tragedy. Life, unfortunately, made a victim out of them all.


End file.
